


sometimes you have to go the long way around

by deplore



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-09 14:11:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4351958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deplore/pseuds/deplore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>The thing is, when Oikawa laughs and trash-talks Ushijima to his face in front of a minor crowd in the student union, that’s supposed to be insurance to make sure that Ushijima stops bothering him permanently. “I’d sooner date Iwa-chan than you and that’s, like, practically incestuous,” Oikawa proclaims, firmly confident that this public blow-off is definitely going to put this whole thing to an end and will not be a recipe for immense regret when he ends up in Ushijima’s bed not two weeks later.</p>
  <p>(“I’m not actually related to this idiot and him saying we practically are is offensive to me,” Iwaizumi says loudly, in the hopes that anybody is listening to him. Nobody is listening to him.)</p>
</blockquote>
            </blockquote>





	sometimes you have to go the long way around

It is either a very unfortunate coincidence that Ushijima Wakatoshi happens to choose the same university to attend as Oikawa does, or straight-up stalking. That's Oikawa's story and he's sticking to it, choosing to ignore the fact that their university has the strongest collegiate volleyball team in the province, and so it only makes sense that anybody seriously interested in continuing with volleyball would want to attend it. All he really cares about is the fact that it means that Ushijima Wakatoshi's unending one-man campaign to get Oikawa to play on the same team as him continues on indefinitely.

The circumstances are complicated, though not as complicated as Oikawa often tries to make it sound: Ushijima had been recruited to Japan's national men's volleyball team right out of graduating high school, and is therefore unavailable to play for the college team for long stretches at a time. Whenever he is available to be part of the team roster, Oikawa mysteriously “falls ill” or “has a huge midterm” or “I accidentally jilted this girl and I need to lay low so she doesn't ruin me, although I admit I deserve it”. The team tolerates this because Oikawa is, for better or for worse, their most flexible setter, and one of the easiest players to integrate into multiple game strategies, and because Iwaizumi is also on the team as well as far better at making excuses on Oikawa's behalf than Oikawa himself is.

But the thing is, when Oikawa laughs and shit-talks Ushijima to his face in front of a minor crowd in the student union, that’s _supposed_ to be insurance to make sure that Ushijima stops bothering him to actually show up to practice next week, when Ushijima's due to be there. “I’d sooner date Iwa-chan than you and that’s, like, practically incestuous,” Oikawa proclaims as he swirls a wooden stirrer around in his travel mug of overpriced Starbucks coffee – house blend with just a touch of half-and-half and a dash of nutmeg on top – perfectly aware that Ushijima Wakatoshi has never expressed any overt romantic interest in him, although Oikawa suspects it strongly.

(“I’m not actually related to this idiot and him saying we practically are is offensive to me,” Iwaizumi says loudly, in the hopes that anybody is listening to him. Nobody is listening to him.)

“And I don’t really know how you haven’t gotten this after so many years,” Oikawa continues, egged on by the presence of other people who are watching this and pretending like they’re not using their smartphones to immediately post about this incident on Yik Yak, “but you’re just so far off of my type, seriously. So yeah, it’s flattering and all, but you’ve gotta let it go, Ushiwaka-chan, seriously.”

And with that, Oikawa walks off with a cheery smile and a wave, Iwaizumi in tow and firmly confident that this public blow-off is definitely going to put this whole thing to an end and will not be a recipe for immense regret when he ends up in Ushijima’s bed not two weeks later.

 

 

* * *

 

 

To be fair, Oikawa doesn’t remember how he ends up in Ushijima’s bed, he just wakes up there on Saturday morning and spends a few moments contemplating how he should stop drinking to blackout so often. He decides to blame Iwaizumi for having such a stupidly high alcohol tolerance, and does not blame his own shitty pride for feeling like he needs to keep up despite his inferior drinking threshold. He then yawns and sits up, giving the room an once-over before his eyes settle on Ushijima sitting at his dorm-issue desk on the other side of the room. Ushijima turns around as he hears Oikawa stirring. “Good, you’re awake,” he says.

“You were so terrible,” Oikawa snaps back on reflex, drawing the blankets up very close to his chest and trying to not show how alarmed he feels at this turn of events. “Like, possibly the worst lay of my entire life. I appreciate the enthusiasm, but it really just doesn’t make up for experience, you know. Have you touched any balls that aren’t volleyballs? Do you even jerk it off? At any rate, the sex was bad and you should feel bad.”

Ushijima stares at him and Oikawa stares back. “We didn’t have sex,” Ushijima replies.

It’s at that moment that Oikawa realizes all of his clothes are still on and only messy in the usual way: _some fucker spilled a shot of Bacardi on me and that’s criminal on the levels of both don’t waste 80 proof alcohol_ and _don’t ruin my clothes_. “Ah,” Oikawa says vaguely. “So, why am I in your bed?”

“Somebody passed me off to you when I was walking back to my room and asked me to watch you for a second, then never came back,” Ushijima answers.

 _Not Iwa-chan, then,_ Oikawa thinks to himself. Iwa-chan, despite his tendency towards physical and verbal violence, would definitely have come back for him. He lets go of the bedding and rubs at his face very roughly, feeling grateful that at the very least, his hangover is bearable. “Right, well. Thanks for letting me crash here,” Oikawa says.

“It was no problem,” Ushijima replies. Oikawa tries to not snort openly, because he can tell that he’d accidentally forced Ushijima to sleep on the floor in his own damn room and that can’t possibly have been as comfortable as Oikawa was. This strikes Oikawa as needlessly kind, because he was in no mental state to appreciate the bed.

“Suuuuure it wasn’t,” Oikawa drawls instead, cricking his neck to either side before rolling his shoulders back. He’s seen rooms with this exact layout before; from that, he knows what dorm this is and how to get back to his own bed or Iwa-chan’s bed – and Iwa-chan’s bed sounds so very nice now, especially if he can inveigle his poorly beloved best friend into buying him a nasty, greasy fast food breakfast set before burrowing in for a nap. “Out of curiosity, though, was I still talking and mostly conscious when I was passed off to you last night?”

“You tried to talk to me about the aerodynamics of a jump serve,” Ushijima replies, getting up as Oikawa stands. “It was somewhat impressive. You got most of it right, and what was wrong was mostly because of – ” he pauses delicately “ – slurred incoherence.”

“Because of me being a total hot mess, right,” Oikawa says. The important point to Oikawa is that his sensual, long-limbed, beautiful body had been deposited right in Ushijima’s arms by one of his traitorous not-really-friends and Ushijima did nothing but the most well-intentioned thing possible in the situation. That was a very gentlemanly thing to do, and Oikawa somehow feels more sickened by that than the mild headache he’s suffering. He tries to not think about what a terrible, jaded person that makes him and instead concentrates hard on fluffy hotcakes and oily bacon and hydrogenated eggs and soft, soft hash browns.

Ushijima gives him a sidelong look. “Will you be fine walking back to your dorm by yourself?” he asks.

“Y’know straightforward people like you kinda piss me off,” Oikawa says as he strides to the door. “Opposites do not attract, Ushiwaka-chan, that’s romantic nonsense. _What_ do you even see in somebody a personality like mine? It’s such a mystery to me.”

“Well, I like that – ” Ushijima begins.

“Whoops, that was rhetorical,” Oikawa cuts in, tone easy and pleasant. “Bye, Ushiwaka-chan. Nice sheets, I like them – Shiratorizawa’s colors, right? _Bye_.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Iwaizumi is waiting for him by the time Oikawa comes waltzing into his dorm room. “Do you know _how_ many people have texted me in the last twenty minutes asking if I know that you’re doing a walk of shame from Ushijima’s room?” Iwaizumi asks, glaring at him even as he lets Oikawa in.

“Aw, Iwa-chan. It wasn’t a walk of shame,” Oikawa replies. “I was vulnerable and intoxicated in Ushijima’s arms and he did nothing to me. Well, I do kinda want to sit on his dick.”

“ _What_ ,” Iwaizumi replies.

Oikawa clarifies: “Sit on it and break it under the weight of my body.”

“You are so fucked up, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi mutters, visibly shuddering.

“Only in the fun ways,” Oikawa says.

“Fuck you,” Iwaizumi groans. “Oikawa, you dumbass.”

Oikawa just nods. “Can you get this dumbass breakfast, though? Take me to Denny’s and buy me a Grand Slam and tell me who it was that you last saw me with yesterday night, I’m going to find who thought it was funny to do this to me and tease them relentlessly.”

Iwaizumi shoves a spare jersey into Oikawa’s arms and sighs very loudly before resigning himself to the task of escorting Oikawa to the breakfast restaurant of dreams.

 

 

* * *

 

 

After eating a gloriously unhealthy breakfast at roughly the crack of noon, Oikawa returns to his own dorm to flush out the culprit who’d apparently thought it would be funny to leave him with Ushijima. But Oikawa is benevolent – he decides not to publicly call the guy out and instead takes the opportunity to wipe his cell phone contacts of people he knows don’t really consider him a friend but cling to him even if they openly resent him. After he’s gotten safely back to his dorm and taken a shower, Oikawa slips his headphones over his ears, flops himself down on his bed, and scrolls through his contacts, pressing delete over and over and over again.

“Good riddance to bad rubbish,” he singsongs to the ceiling to the tune of a guilty pleasure top forty song as it plays on his cell phone.

In the middle of his efforts at mass deletion, he receive a text from an unidentified number – a victim of his cell phone cull: “Oikawa, wanna hang out tonight? Having a party, let me know if you can come.”

Oikawa doesn’t reply, and the lack feels intensely good. He continues scrolling down and down, working through the alphabet, when finally near the bottom, his eyes settle upon an unexpected name: Ushijima Wakatoshi.

His thumb hovers over the trash can icon for a few moments. And then he laughs up towards the ceiling, hitting the “new draft” icon instead, and writes out a message: _Never let it be said that I am a complete ingrate! That is to say, thanks_.

A few minutes, his cell phone rings; the caller ID registers under Ushijima's name. Oikawa hits ignore, but is somehow not surprised when he gets a notification for an unread voicemail not two minutes later. He debates deleting it for a few moments, but – he supposes it wouldn't hurt him to give it a listen.

“You're welcome,” says Ushijima via phone recording. “Also, to answer your question from earlier. I like that you are true to yourself in the things that matter. It is a trait you shouldn't hide from others so readily.”

The words should sting like an insult, even though Ushijima's voice carries zero malcontent as usual. But instead, Oikawa finds himself smiling against his own will, a pleasant warm feeling blooming in his chest, almost like the words make him  _happy_ or something. “Somebody who isn't Iwaizumi Hajime thinks Oikawa Tooru isn't duplicitous where it counts,” he says aloud, then laughs. “That's funny.”

He sends a text back ( _I guess I could come to practice next week_ ) and then turns off his phone.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting in my WIPs folder for coming up on a year now, so I decided, "I just need to post it. It obviously isn't going anywhere fast." Sometimes, you just wanna write snappy dialogue with no real plot. (Sometimes for me is literally all the time.) 
> 
> Nevertheless, I hope you enjoyed reading it.


End file.
